She smiled. “Nor shall I.” She leaned in and kissed him slowly, tasting his lips, and her eyes glowed with tears. Pulling back, she had to look away: she was too attracted to him. She’d thought that only Jaimin could make her feel this way.
“Does this mean you want me near you?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
“You’re not sure?”
“My thoughts need to be on my mission,” she told him.
“I’m sorry. I understand completely,” he said. “Once you escape the palace,” he said, “meet the Shadow Children at the abandoned steam works, at the northeastern edge of the capital. May luck be with you.” He turned to leave.
“Mascarin?”
“Yes?”
“As soon as you can, find me.”
“I will.”
When Mascarin left, Nastasha checked the bag he had brought. Beneath her traveling clothes lay the Dagger of Shen Yan, and safe within its hilt was the “poison bee,” as she called the poison syringe.
Again Nastasha slept, and again she was roused by a friend. Elaina’s voice brought her to consciousness. She blinked, and Elaina’s spirit came into focus over the bed. “Nastasha?” Elaina said. “Please, wake up.”
“Wow,” Nastasha said. “Is…is this how you appeared to your sister?” She reached out and her hand passed through Elaina’s spirit ankle.
“Yes.”
The scientist in Nastasha went mad with curiosity. She passed her hand back and forth through Elaina’s ghostly foot several times. It was as if her hand “knew” there was something there, but couldn’t touch it. This wondrous spirit realm: she had to learn more about it!
“Your journey’s taken quite a turn,” Elaina said.
Nastasha cringed. “How much do you know?”
“Everything,” Elaina said. “You leave for the palace in the morning.”
“You haven’t told Jaimin, have you?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Good heavens. Can I have no secrets?” Nastasha asked.
“I guess there are some things those who love you will always know,” said Elaina.
Argh! These Celmareans and their wisdom, Nastasha thought. But she couldn’t deny it was a wisdom she craved. And if she were to love the Celmareans, and to be loved by them, and if privacy were the price, she just might pay it.
“I feel so different,” Nastasha said. “I’m not myself.”
“Of course you’re you,” Elaina said.
“Was I wrong to do what I did? I mean, it was all my idea.”
“Please don’t ever doubt yourself,” Elaina said. “You are so brave to make that choice.”
“Does this mean I have to stay with Mascarin now?” Nastasha asked. “If I do survive all this and bear his children they would be…his children.”
Elaina told her: “There will be plenty of time to work that out later.”
“Where are you Elaina? Is everyone safe?”
“We lost Rosner in a battle with a purple army patrol.”
“Damn!”
“Everyone else is safe,” Elaina said. “Eleonora and her baby daughter are with us, and we’re in the Destaurian capital now, with the Shadow Children.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Do you still have the poison?”
“I do,” Nastasha said.
“My sister plans to openly return to her palace in the light of day. She’s gambling that her father won’t fight her amidst so much public attention. We’ll set up in her wing of the palace and wait for you to arrive.”
“I must have my audience with Radovan to administer the poison,” Nastasha said. “You know, when he’s working on splitting the embryo. Eleonora had better be right that he won’t fight her. I don’t want Radovan so preoccupied that he cancels his appointment with me.”
“We can’t wait any longer for Eleonora to make her move. Too many people already know that she is in town.”
“Very well. You carry out your crazy plan and situate yourselves in the palace. After I poison Radovan, I shall escape and find you. That sounds even more crazy, doesn’t it?”
“How will you administer the poison?” Elaina asked.
“It’s in a fat little syringe—I call it a bee. I can either inject it in him directly or put it in his food or drink. I shall have to see which opportunity presents itself.”
Elaina searched her feelings. “You’ll find a way,” she said. “Look, remember what I said. I’m proud of you, and I believe in you. And Jaimin does too.”
“Still?”
“Yes, still.”
Next, Elaina delivered another message in her spirit form. Princess Tori squeaked in fright at first, but she quickly recognized the ghost and grew excited. She gave her sleeping mother a nudge.
“My sisters,” Elaina said.
“Is that really you?” Tori asked Elaina, as Queen Alethea awoke and sat up in bed.
“Yes,” Elaina said. “Please, listen. The Shadow Children have new reports from their scouts. The purple army is likely to be in its final position in two days. Be ready. Don’t fight them in the forest—they will be like shadows behind every tree. Fight them in the open as they move on the cities, but be prepared for a rain of fire.”
“Oil bombs?” Tori asked.
“Fuel gel,” said Elaina. “You cannot imagine how awful the stuff is. Water doesn’t put it out. If you can find a substance that can put it out, have it ready.”
“What of your plan?” asked the queen.
“Nastasha was delayed,” Elaina said, “but she’ll be in the capital soon. Eleonora is working to bring the Destaurian officers to our cause. If they would only turn against the purple army, it would buy us time…”
“They will not,” Alethea said, “unless Radovan orders it. And Eleonora must be careful. It just takes one officer to betray her. Our prayers are with all of you.”
“Love to Jaimin,” said Tori. “And you! I love you!”
“Thank you, sweetie,” said Elaina. “Be brave.” And Elaina’s image vanished.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The weather was gorgeous and unseasonably warm the next day.
The Destaurian capital was bisected by a wide, straight avenue, King Poncimus Way, which sloped gradually downward from north to south, widening at the city’s central square: a busy communal space where fountains, statues, and colorful market stalls competed for the attention of those passing through. From the square, King Poncimus Way continued through a neighborhood of shops and walled family compounds, until it crossed a tree-shaded park, spanned a small river, and then terminated at the golden gates of Radovan’s palace at the city’s southern end.
Eleonora began her defiant march to the palace at the top of King Poncimus Way, flanked by dozens of loyal guards and soldiers. Marco, Jaimin, Elaina and several of the Arran soldiers were also in the procession, disguised as Destaurian troops. More of the Arran troops, posing as commoners, mixed into the crowds, keeping an eye out for trouble.
Alessa and Makias had stayed behind at the steam works with Maya and the Shadow Children. There, they all planned how they might extract the others should things not go well in the palace.
Princess Eleonora wore a hooded black cloak trimmed with gold, which those with status would recognize as the handiwork of the best tailor in the city. She carried Ia in her arms for all to see. She strode slowly, and the crowds gathered quickly. The people hadn’t seen their princess in nearly a year, and here she was now, carrying a baby! Before long, it seemed the whole of the city had stopped their business and were clambering to get a view.
Word spread, and by the time Eleonora got to the square, hundreds of townspeople were arriving from all directions. The princess made for a stone platform near the center of the square. She handed Ia to a guard and stepped up onto the platform, and then she took Ia back.
Eleonora knew she was going to have to yell to be heard. “My people,” she called out, and they fell silent. “It is a pleasur
e to stand before you today—you, my family, all of you—and to see your faces once more. It has been difficult for me to remain in seclusion, hearing of the challenges you have faced this year, and not being able to comfort or support you.”
“My precious Destaurians, in the last week I have had the joy of welcoming your princess to the world, but I have also endured unthinkable grief. Yes, I have given birth, but in a prison.” The crowd collectively gasped. “I—yes, your own princess—was betrayed and taken from my palace by the purple army, those evil raiders you fear. They killed my precious husband and left him to rot beside me.” Another collective gasp.
“And, just as you did,” she continued, “I believed our foes to be Arrans. But I tell you, they are not.” There were cries of disbelief from some. It was too much for them to accept. “Yes, this purple army is a distinct force, just as opposed to Arra as they are to us.” A wave of low conversation spread through the crowd, with many clarifying with their neighbors what they thought they had just heard Eleonora say.
“It will be hard for you to accept, but I intend to show you the truth,” she continued. “You soldiers who have returned from fighting Arra…” There were some in attendance, in addition to those she had assembled. “I ask you, were there any purple uniforms on the Arrans you fought? Did you find any signs in their camps, or their cities, that they were anything like this foe who descends on us by night?”
“No,” replied a Destaurian captain, loudly. When a few other lower ranking soldiers saw that a captain had spoken out, they felt free to respond as well: “No.” “No,” and “nothing,” they said.
“The Arrans are our brothers and sisters,” Eleonora said, “and we have all been misled.” She paused to let them absorb this.
“I return to the palace this morning, to my father,” she continued. “I have seen this purple army, and I know where they hide. We can, and we must, contain their threat.” There were signs she was turning them around to her version of the truth. Smiles broke out on their faces. A soft cheer went up. Eleonora was careful not to denounce the king straight away—she needed the Destaurian civilians to draw their own conclusions. “Protect me, my people. My beloved soldiers and officers, protect me and my daughter, and we will serve you faithfully. We will do all we can to rescue and return those you love who were seized in the raids. For I bear the news that many of those you thought you lost still live.” With this last announcement she seized their hearts—she gave them hope that those stolen from them may not be lost forever.
Eleonora descended from the platform, and her guards helped to part the crowds before her. She and her entourage progressed southward toward the palace, through the neighborhoods, and through the park, with its expanse of brown grass poking up out of a thin layer of snow.
When the procession arrived at the guardhouse at the ornate golden bridge leading over the river to the palace gates, Radovan’s guards blocked the way and brought the march to a halt. Townspeople continued to pour into the riverside park to see what was going on.
“Step aside,” Eleonora shouted at the guards. “This is my home.”
“Your Royal Highness, please await your father,” the guardhouse captain shouted. “He wishes to celebrate the safe return of you and your child in the presence of the people.”
Eleonora had no choice but to wait.
It didn’t take long for King Radovan to emerge from the palace gates, accompanied by his personal guards. Not going to great lengths to be discrete, the king’s archers crouched on the walks atop the palace walls and observed the scene.
Radovan walked the length of the golden bridge, with his guards a step behind. He was smiling broadly, with his arms outstretched toward Eleonora.
Elaina, thinly disguised as a male soldier, bit her lip nervously. She had encountered a younger version of her father when she and Jaimin had traveled to the past. Here she was again just steps away from Radovan, only this time he was at his true age. She thought that surely if he glanced her way he would recognize her face. But he was focused only on Eleonora.
As Radovan neared Eleonora, her guards suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking the king from reaching her. The crowd fell silent. One could hear the breeze through the barren trees overhead. Radovan’s guards drew their swords. Eleonora’s guards drew theirs.
“What is the meaning of this?” the king shouted.
“Father,” Eleonora said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “where were your guards when the purple army seized me from my bed? I now bring my own defense. Allow us passage.”
All eyes were fixed on Radovan, awaiting his reaction. He looked at the crowd on his left. He looked on those to his right. He glanced over at the guardhouse captain. Surely if he took violent action against his daughter or her entourage, or indeed even if he spoke out against her, the people would panic.
“Of course, my dear,” he said, and he began walking backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Eleonora’s. The Destaurian civilians were getting the message now—all was not well between their princess and their king. Eleonora, her guards, and her soldiers advanced, as Radovan’s protectors retreated. Soon Eleonora’s group were across the bridge and inside the palace gates, and Radovan and his men had moved completely aside, out of her way.
Once inside the palace, Eleonora headed straight for her chambers, and her guards and soldiers spread out to establish a perimeter around her customary living area. Those loyal to Eleonora coldly faced down Radovan’s protectors in the corridors and atriums. Radovan’s men backed off and, little by little, the two sides wordlessly negotiated where Eleonora’s “territory” ended and the king’s began.
Everything in Eleonora’s living area was just as she and Camron had left it. Even the crib they had prepared for Ia was still in its place. Eleonora felt grand being home, although it was a home her beloved husband would no longer share with her. Casting off her heavy cloak, she fell backward onto her bed, trying to put Cam out of her mind. “Did you see?” she said to Elaina. “Our father had no idea what to do.”
“It was too easy,” said Elaina.
“We’re playing right into his plan to kill all of us,” Jaimin said.
“We can only hope he didn’t recognize me,” said Elaina.
“You both should stay hidden here in my room for a while, until we’re sure our defenses will hold,” Eleonora told them.
“We will,” Elaina said. “I should try to contact Nastasha and let her know we made it in.”
Radovan’s general exited the throne room, and the doors boomed shut. King Radovan sat back into the padding of his throne. “Her message is spreading like a virus,” he said.
Errol stepped out from the shadows behind the throne. “She is a bold one. Are you sure Elaina is not with her?”
“Not unless she dressed as a soldier.”
Errol gave him a look of contempt.
“Sorry, I couldn’t tell,” said Radovan. “There were a lot of them.”
“Elaina is somewhere close,” said Errol. “I’m sure of it. She must be found and destroyed.”
“And Eleonora?” asked Radovan.
“I shall try once to turn Eleonora. If I don’t succeed, you must kill her as well.”
It was early evening when soldiers in black ushered Nastasha into the Destaurian palace through a back entrance. “His Majesty has had an eventful day,” one of them told her. “You’re lucky that he’s made time for you.”
“Indeed,” she said.
They led her through a maze of corridors and left her to wait, alone, in a huge salon with a gilded arched ceiling three stories high.
Nastasha resisted the urge to rifle through the room’s desks, but she didn’t think it would be too severe a violation if she examined one of the books from Radovan’s bookshelf. After all, nobody had explained to her the rules. So she picked out a novel called Your Eyes are Like Fire and settled down with it on the ornate maroon couch.
Underneath Nastasha’s robe, her chest and abdomen were bar
e, as apparently Radovan needed access to her bare skin for the twinning procedure. She had been allowed to keep her pants and leggings on for warmth, and also her boots, which was lucky, because the Dagger of Shen Yan was hidden in one boot and the poison bee was carefully concealed in the other.
Half an hour went by, and she was becoming quite engaged in Your Eyes are Like Fire, when Radovan’s attendant finally entered and announced the king. Nastasha set down the book and stood, making eye contact with the infamous King Radovan for the first time.
With his steely grey-blue eyes focused on her, Radovan approached hurriedly; clearly he had many other things to get to. He looked younger and was more muscular than she’d anticipated. She saw Elaina clearly in the shape of his face, behind his brown moustache and neatly trimmed beard. Your eyes are like ice, she said to him in her mind.
She felt those piercing eyes detect her intelligence. And she trembled inside.
“You look familiar,” he said. “Do I know your father?”
“Surely not, My King,” Nastasha replied.
His attendant departed and the door latched.
“Please, sit. Do you know why you are here?” Radovan asked. As Nastasha sat back down on the couch, he drew a chair close and sat before her.
“No, Your Majesty.”
“I’m not that easily deceived,” he said.
“Your Majesty?” Nastasha hid her apprehension. Jaimin had proved he could shatter her bones with a touch, surely this mender could as well.
“Your accent.”
She looked down, coyly. “Truth is, I’m a soldier’s daughter.”
“Arra.”
She nodded.
“No matter. You will do nicely. You have conceived by my servant.” He gauged her reaction for surprise and found none. “I will examine you to determine the health of the embryo.”
“I trust you have only good intentions,” she told him.
Again, he scrutinized her, convinced that Nastasha was up to something, but unable to figure out her game. “Lay back, now,” he instructed.
She pulled her feet up and lay back on the rich ruby velvet. She was surprised he didn’t ask her to take off her boots, until she saw the scuff marks on the end of the couch. Hundreds of women had reclined here at his command. He’d probably tired of asking them to remove their boots and waiting for them to do so.
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